


Small Promises

by rulanarinrush



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff with an unhappy ending, Implied Character Death, M/M, Spoilers for Ashe's supports with Dedue and Catherine, Spoilers for Dedue's support with Ingrid, Spoilers for the Blue Lions route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rulanarinrush/pseuds/rulanarinrush
Summary: Small moments between Ashe and Dedue. Spoilers for the Blue Lions route and certain supports.





	Small Promises

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of nonlinear and plotless, sorry. I admit to not knowing where to go with this fic. I also took some creative liberties and let Dedue's A support with Ingrid happen pre-timeskip.
> 
> Once again, spoilers. If you happen to be sensitive to them, please turn away.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The first word that Ashe thought of when he first met Dedue was intimidating. 

Not in the bad sense, rather, it was because he rarely spoke or showed emotion, like a stone wall. And he was so, well, large. He was a force on the battlefield, quite literally the shield of the prince of Faerghus.

It took a while for that perception to change. But it does change, when they are both assigned to kitchen duty for the first time.

For a man of his stature, Dedue handles food quite delicately. His fingers move like that of a master’s, they speak tales of hours in the kitchen, years of experience, stories unknown.

“Ashe,” Dedue starts, shaking Ashe out of his thoughts. “Why are you staring? Is there something you need?”

“Oh! It’s nothing,” Ashe laughs, nervousness trailing his voice. “You just seem to have so much experience cooking! It smells wonderful from here.”

“I see,” Dedue returns to the vegetables simmering in the pot. “You also seem to have experience cooking as well.”

“Huh?” Ashe flusters. “Well, I only know a little compared to you.”

“But you knew enough to adequately assist me,” Dedue is staring at him now, his eyes a muted but powerful green. “I would not be opposed to cooking with you again.”

Huh. Not such a stone wall after all. Perhaps a more apt description would be the earth: solid, stable, and strong.

* * *

Lonato’s death leaves an empty hole in him that can never be filled. When the Verdant moon rises, so does his need for answers. Though Catherine gives him them, the feelings that follow bubble beneath his skin and threaten to make him burst.

It’s not fair. How could Catherine do something like that?

Deep down, he understands. Her beliefs over his. Rhea over his brother. 

That doesn’t mean he can accept that. Every attempt to face the truth makes his eyes sting.

More than anything, he really doesn’t want to be alone right now. 

He could go to his professor. Byleth would understand. They always know what to say. But his feet take him next door, to where Dedue is. He knocks on the door.

This is a terrible idea. If anything, this will only serve to make Dedue remember his own tragedy in Duscur. But in his own way, Dedue has managed to accept the tragedies in his life. Ashe has not.

The door is opened before he can have second thoughts. “Ashe?” Dedue asks, his voice a low rumble. “It is raining heavily outside. Why are you here?”

“I just felt like seeing you.” It’s not really a lie. “And I-” Oh no. Here come the waterworks. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I see.” Dedue’s voice is low and soothing. “Come in.”

Dedue’s room smells of the scent of herbs and tea. Ashe’s eyes fall on the small pots of herbs adorning his windows, the greenery a spark of color admist the dull hues of the room. They are familar. Comforting.

“What brings you here?” Dedue asks. Straight to the point, as always.

“Catherine told me the truth. About what really happened to my brother,” And likely the true reasons for Lonato’s hatred of the Church. “It’s not fair. I miss them.”

Dedue is silent now. The rain pouring outside is even louder.

“I miss them,” Ashe repeats, sniffling this time. “Why did they have to die? What good did it do?”

“I also lost my family,” Dedue finally says, breaking his silence.

Ashe blinks the tears out of his eyes.

“When the tragedy of Duscur struck, the kingdom paid with due retribution. My mother and sister did not survive,” Dedue’s eyes are closed now, but his expression does not waver. “I only survived thanks to his highness.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Dedue. I don’t know what to say.”

“It is not your fault, Ashe. No apologies are necessary.”

“But I’m sorry,” Ashe chokes out. “I made you remember something so horrible, and they didn’t deserve it at all.”

Did they, though? Not Dedue’s family, of course, but can he say the same for his own? Did Christophe and Lord Lonato deserve to die? They both did things that were wrong, but did they die for the sake of justice?

“What I mean to say is that I understand how you feel,” Dedue remarks. Ashe knows what the hidden sentiment behind his words are. Justice. What even is it anyway? For all the tales of chivalry he wishes to embody, Ashe has no idea what justice even is anymore. “I am sorry. I’m not the best at sympathizing with others.”

“It’s ok,” Ashe is sobbing now. “You’re here, that’s enough.” Dedue may be the only thing that’s real anymore. 

When Dedue lends him his shoulder, Ashe buries his head into his shoulder and cries. It must be terribly uncomfortable, with Dedue having to bend down to reach Ashe and Ashe’s tears soaking his uniform, yet Dedue voices no complaints.

Eventually, when he has shed all his tears, sleep claims him. By the time morning comes, Dedue is gone, but there is a cup of tea left by the bed. 

The rain continues.

* * *

When Dedue enters the greenhouse the next day to tend to his own flowers, Ashe lets out a very unmanly shriek at the sight of the smile on Dedue’s face. It’s not the fact that Dedue is smiling, rather, it is the way Dedue is smiling. It’s forced and stilted, almost manical in a way.

Dedue sighs. “This is the second time this has happened today.”

Ashe nearly trips over himself. “The second?”

“Yes,” Dedue grunts. “I was told a smile helps to make a person less frightening. You told me, once, that you were intimidated the first time you saw me. So I tried to amend the issue.”

Oh. Well that explained some things.

“You need not worry. Ingrid has already explained why it does not work.”

Wait. Ingrid? Didn’t she have some kind of grudge against the people of Duscur?

“Does that mean that you and Ingrid have already made up?” Ashe questions.

“Made up is not the way I would describe it. Rather, she and I have come to a mutual understanding.”

“I’m glad Dedue. I really am. But really, what was with the smile from before?”

“That?” Dedue asks. “That was merely a ‘prank’ of sorts. Annette told me that you would take one well, and that it I could pull one off well. That it was a gesture of friendship.”

Well. Annette was certainly right, even if the scare took off years from his life.

Ashe chuckles. “She was right. But don’t worry about your smile, Dedue. Or how you appear. Anyone who gets to know you understands just how much you care.”  


* * *

Their first kiss is in the chapel, underneath the pale moonlight. Perhaps the goddess is watching them tonight.

Ashe can feel the calluses of Dedue’s hand on his cheek, contrasting his own softer hands. His are scarred, of course, from arrows and blades and his past, but it all seems to fade away.

Dedue’s lips are pressed against his own, chapped but warm, telling a tale of years of sorrow and love. It is a chaste kiss, nothing more, but everything. 

Striking is not a word Ashe would normally to describe Dedue. But tonight, illuminated by the light of the moon, his hair pale wisps of silver and eyes glowing, Dedue has never looked more striking.

Dedue’s eyes are something tender. “Is a man like me allowed to indulge in someone like you? Is someone like me worthy of being around someone like you?”

For the first time, Ashe knows what to say with full confidence. For all the times in life he’s fumbled or lost his nerve, he knows the right answer now.

“You’ve always been more than worthy.”

He lets his lips do the talking.

* * *

They go to the dock sometimes at night. Usually they sit there in silence, Ashe fishing under the quiet moon with Dedue simply enjoying his company.

Occasionally, one of them will break the silence. “You remind me of the constellations,” Dedue says on time.

Ashe blinks. “I do?”

“Yes,” Dedue continues. “Your freckles. They are like the stars are hanging under your eyes.”

Ashe’s face flushes. How can Dedue say those things so matter-of-fact? 

“That’s, um,” Ashe stammers. The stars above him are laughing their small, bright twinkles. “Well, I don’t think they can really be compared to the stars.”

“In Duscur, our constellations represented different gods and spirits.” Dedue has changed the topic. Thank goodness.

Ashe smiles. “Tell me about them, Dedue.”  


* * *

“You remind me of home,” Ashe closes his eyes. Above his eyelids is someone that Ashe knows he can trust his secrets and life with.

“How so?” the larger man inquires.

“When I’m with you, I feel warm. Safe,” His cheeks are aflame now. “I’m glad I met you, Dedue.”

“And so am I,” There’s a smile on Dedue’s face now. Not the forced smile from before, but a true smile that has infinite value for its rarity. The kind that makes Ashe wish time would stand still forever.  


* * *

But the good times could not last forever.

When the lone moon rises, so does war, and the thin layer that separated the world from Dimitri’s anger collapses. His vengeance bubbles to the surface and creates calamity.

Ashe has thought about the possibility of war, of course. It is an outcome every knight must think about. But being able to imagine a scenario and believing in it are two very different things. 

He’d never feel ashamed of fighting for his homeland. Or dying for it. But could he rest peacefully, knowing that his prince is more interested in revenge than defending his homeland?

Dedue has been just as troubled. Every attempt to soothe the prince’s disturbed mind has been met with rejection or anger, or maybe both. It is difficult to tell these days what the prince truly wants anymore.

Who knows what awaits in the future?

  


* * *

“Let’s make a promise,” Ashe starts. “When we meet again in five years, promise me you’ll let me try your Duscur cuisine.”

“My Duscur cuisine?” Dedue sounds almost uncharacteristically startled. “Why? There are so many other dishes you could try.” 

Ashe knows what he really means.

“I know. But I want something only you can give me.” 

Want. I want. Long ago, Ashe’s past self might have struck him down for saying that, when he could barely afford to feed himself and his siblings. But fate works in strange ways, and Ashe knows has been blessed to have had so many opportunities, to have met Lonato, to have met Dedue.

“Then of course,” For the first time in a while, Dedue’s face looks at ease. “As long as you promise to let me try your cooking in return.”

  


* * *

“If,” Dedue starts, his voice unsually soft. “I don’t survive this battle, this war, then know that I appreciated your friendship. Truly.”

But they were so much more than that, weren’t they? Lovers was not the right word for it, yet just “friends” was not the right word either.

“Don’t worry, Dedue. We’re going to survive. You, me, Dimitri, the professor, all of us. We’re going to make it through this,” Ashe’s voice has a surprising confidence to it. “And we still both have a promise—promises to keep.”

The smile Dedue gives him is warm and settles into Ashe’s heart forever.

“Indeed, we do.”

  


* * *

When word of Prince Dimitri’s death reaches his ears, he cannot believe it.

Dead. Dimitri is dead. 

The news spread throughout his body like a terrible venom that freezes his blood and makes his ears ring. It makes his frame convulse and his eyes sting. One tear falls. Then the next, and the next…

Yet something is terribly amiss about the news. There was no body to be had, no proof that Dimitri was well and truly gone.

Perhaps Ashe is an optimistic fool. Perhaps he only wishes to cling to the memory of the man he once called his leader. Perhaps he simply wishes to go back to peaceful days, to go back to dreaming of knighthood and virtue and honor.

However, he can’t shake the feeling that not all hope is lost. Even without his leader, there are still those who oppose the empire. Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain are all still fighting to ensure that Dimitri’s memory does not fade. And a small part of him, the part of him that still believes in tales of hope and chivalry, believes that Dimitri is still alive. By the time his tears have dried, the dawn of a new day has risen. There is hope.

Even so, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something important.

  


* * *

The night before the millennium festival, Ashe makes his towards the ruined Garreg Mach. He has no intentions of going back on his promises. Not now. 

He can clearly see the rubble of the once glorious monastery in the distance. Once proud columns now lay in ruins, defeated. The banners that proudly adorned the monastery are tattered, ruined dreams of peace for all of Fodlan.

He still remembers the awe he felt when he first laid his eyes on the proud monument, now a shattered fragment of what it once was. It is a hopeless reminder of what has been lost, yet Ashe has never felt more hopeful.

He can hear the faint flapping of Ingrid’s pegasus from above. They remembered. He will be there.

He can’t wait to try Dedue’s cooking once more. But even more than that, he wants to show Dedue how much he’s grown. 

He knows Dedue will be proud.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:  
“A knight! A knight!” Annette squeals. “Isn’t this great? You’re going to be a knight!”  
Indeed he was. Five years ago, he never would have imagined being here, his lifelong dream come true.  
“Congratulations, Ashe,” Mercedes laughs, her voice full of cheer. “I’ve heard that your siblings are starting a restaurant, right? We should visit soon.”  
Ah. The restaurant. He should visit soon. He would’ve visited sooner, but for some reason, the smell of herbs and spice and the familiar warmth of the kitchen haunts him now.
> 
> Thank you for reading! All kudos, comments, and critcisms are appreciated. If you see a mistake, let me know. I should just get a beta, shouldn't I. A special thank you to the 3h discord that I'm apart of for encouraging me to finish this. The bonus is dedicated to a certain someone who sent me the most cursed Hubert edit I've ever laid my eyes upon. It haunts me at night.


End file.
